Johnlock: The Unidentified Raven (Book 3)
by MrsHeftyTurtle
Summary: This is the third and last book to my Johnlock trilogy, if you have not read Book 1 or Book 2, PLEASE GO DO SO BEFORE YOU START THIS. Summary; Sherlock has to deal with a case of a murderer using strange and old techniques to kill his victims. John has to deal with Sherlock not focusing on planning their wedding and try to do everything on his own and solve the case with Sherlock.
1. Prologue

**AN: I'm back baby! With the final story to this wonderful trilogy of Johnlock. I'm going to tease you with a little prologue here, for I will be going on vacation in just a few days and will not return. I may possible have the first chapter out before I leave, but for now, all you get is a prologue.**

**I have a lot for this story, I really do. I actually think you'll enjoy this story more than the others, I'm going to start getting more detailed and try making each chapter at least 3,000 words. Might be a bit hard for me, but I want this story to be huge. **

**The prologue starts off with John's thoughts and then continues (sort of) where the last story left off. This is also a short prologue, I don't want to give too much away in the first few chapters! So, enjoy, and let me know how you like this so far by leaving a review and how you think that it's going to turn out. Also, did you enjoy book 2? I thought I did a decent job at it although it was VERY short. I apologize for that.**

**ENJOY!**

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><p><em><strong>John's POV<strong>_

_Well, this is it. I'm finally ready to do this. I think Sherlock will be thrilled. I really do, he's not very romantic and doesn't like romance stuff, but he'll love this. Hopefully, that's what I intend on happening anyway. It's a wonderful little 'plan' I have. It took a lot of work to think of, with the help of Mrs. Hudson, we put something wonderful together. Get Sherlock out of the house all day so I can prepare myself, go to dinner, and ask him. Ask him one simple question. Although it wasn't as simple as people made it look. How do you ask someone that? That person must have to mean a lot to you.. Sherlock does, he means a lot to me. He's basically my whole entire life, literally. I love him. He's not very romantic, or very nice at times, or very likable sometimes, but I understand he can't handle it all of the time. I can see how hard he tries to be nice and to not say rude things but his personality gets the best of him. He's tried to change somewhat, but I don't mind that not happening. He's perfect how he is, his attitude is adorable most of the time anyway._

_Here I am, sitting here waiting for the love of my life to arrive for dinner. This seems so pointless but I want to ask him so badly, I want to know if he'll do this with me. I'm always cautious about the things I ask Sherlock, I don't want him to be offended and walk away to avoid conversation and I definitly don't want to embarras him. He likes to avoid conversations of most things, a lot. So I think about a lot of things before asking him, I don't want to hurt his feelings or make him uncomfortable, I care too much to do that._

_Oh, there he is. Walking slightly behind the hostess. I'm ready, he gave me a cute smile and sat down across from me. It's time. I have to ask him sooner or later._

"Glad you could make it."

"I noticed the time and walked out while Lestrade was explaining something pointless to me, Quick change of shirts and here I am, did you already order wine? Of course you did. What will you be having? I'm not so sure if I'm hungry, this case is interesting.." Sherlock continued talking on and on about the case, but John stopped paying attention. He didn't want to get anything wrong. The only thing that stopped Sherlock from talking was when the waiter arrived with their wine, filling their glasses, and wrote down what they wanted to have tonight.

"Thank you." The waiter said, taking their menus and walking off to give the chef their orders. John looked over at Sherlock who was looking around the room deducing everyone.

"Sherlock, look at me." Sherlock didn't respond, too focused on his deductions. "Sherlock Holmes, look at me please." Sherlock snapped his head to look at John.

"Yes John?"

"I'd like to talk to you about something."

"What might that be, my Watson?"

"I've known you for how long, Sherlock? Oh, 11 or 12 years? It's been great, it really has."

"Are you moving out?" Sherlock interrupted John.

"No no, Sherlock, let me finish. When I first met you, you completely blew me away. I've never met anyone like you, you're unique. It's wonderful, really, every case you solve and deduction you make. I've never heard of anyone ever doing that. Every single day I've lived my life with you, it's been filled with something new. I've never been bored, I've risked my life so many times so save you and you've done the same thing in return. I'm proud to call you mine, you know? Happy to know that someone is looking out for me, especially that someone being you." John smiled. "I'd like to ask you something." John pulled out the ring and opened it, revealing to Sherlock the beautiful, and expensive, ring.

"Would you take my hand in marriage, Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock just sat there, not saying a single word, staring at the ring. John just sat there looking at Sherlock, hoping he would say something soon. Sherlock went to open his mouth and closed it, he did this a few times until he finally said something.

"You went through all this trouble to ask me this?" Sherlock questions, raising an eyebrow. Not exactly the response John was looking for. He sighed.

"Yes.. Sherlock. I did."

"Oh." Silence followed after that, John went to put the ring away but Sherlock grabbed his hand. "Yes, John, I will marry you." Sherlock gave him his famous smile and kissed John's hand. John removed the ring from the case and put it on Sherlock's left ring finger, smiling as it shone in the light. Sherlock put his hand up the look at the ring, eyeing it carefully.

"Beautiful. Excellently beautiful." He put his hand down and looking at John smiling. "I assume Mrs. Hudson helped you pick everything out?" John chuckled, it was true, he never would have been able to do this on his own.

"Yes, she came with me to pick it out and looked up resturants that would be perfect." John was blushing majorly. The waiter returned with their food, placing it in front of them and asking if they needed anything else. Sherlock kindly shooed him away so John and him could have their time together.

"Well, I'm glad she could help you pick this wonderful ring out. Bit suprised at it, actually. I would have never guessed you would do this, Dr. John Watson. You suprised me."

"I should be proud of that, hm? Suprising the world's greatest consulting detective? Do I get an award?" John asked in a flirty tone.

"Ohh, as you may." Sherlock replied, flirty as well, then chuckling. They started to eat their dinner and while they ate, Sherlock started to talk about the case he was dealing with. It was interesting, like he said. Someone has been going around and recreating the murders by Jack The Ripper and combining it with the murders from stories by Edgar Allan Poe. It was strange and intriguing, Lestrade had found a body behind a brick wall in a basemet. It was a woman that had been raped and her organs had been removed from her body. John assumed that this case was going to be a tough one for Sherlock, so planning the wedding was completely out of the question until this case was solved. Which seemed that this case would take a while to be solved, Sherlock seemed very stumped on all the clues but he'd never admit that himself. John knew he wasn't going to be bored for a few days, this case was going to take up his life right now.


	2. Chapter 1: The First Victim

_**AN: Hi! I'm back! I apologize for not posting in so long but I had been on vacation. I'm back and I will be posting more to this story probably every two days. So, enjoy this chapter! I hope you like it.**_

_**Leave me a review when you complete this chapter and tell me how you liked it!**_

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><p><em>The next day<em>

**_John's POV_**

John awoke in bed alone, he turned over to where Sherlock would have been laying and placed his arm there. It was still warm, Sherlock must have gotten up just a few minutes ago. John smiled and slowly sat up in bed, he raised his arms above his head and stretched his muscles out. He shook his arms a bit and got up, putting his slippers on as well. He tightened his robe about his waist and shuffled out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he opened the bedroom door he was hit with an aroma of tea, toast, and eggs. Sherlock was standing over the stove, he didn't seem to hear John walk out of the bedroom. He walked to his usual spot in the living room and sat down on the chair, he picked up today's paper and skimmed through it. After a few minutes Sherlock walked out of the kitchen carrying two plates, placing them both on the table. He kissed John's temple lightly and then picked a plate of food up to hand to him. John took the plate and smiled at Sherlock.

"How's the case?" John asked, taking a bite of the toast.

"Still a wonderful mystery, this will be a good one, my love." Sherlock responded as he sat down across from John. He picked up dome papers that looked like they were involved in the case and became focused in reading them. He didn't answer any of the simple questions John had asked, so John knew he was deep in his reading. John got up to put his plate in the sink, he took Sherlock's plate as well. Even though Sherlock hadn't taken a single bite from his food, it was because he wasn't going to eat in this case. He was too into everything that was going on and probably won't eat for days, John will have to force him...

John walked to the bathroom to freshen up a bit for work, he only had one patient today and the surgery would go by pretty quick. Sherlock had said he would take John to Scotland Yard to talk to Lestrade about the case as soon as he returned home. After John finished brushing his teeth, he walked to their bedroom and opened up his dresser drawers, pulling out the clothes that he'll need to wear for work. He dressed and walked out to the living room, where Sherlock hadn't moved a centimeter from where he was, so focused into the case.

"I'll be off, then. I have work." John said as he was pulling his jumper from the coat rack and putting it on. Sherlock made a humming noise to answer John. "I'll see you when I get home." With that, John walked down the stairs and out onto the curb, calling for a taxi in the process.

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><p><em>Later that evening<em>

John returned back to the flat, the surgery had taken longer than expected but it was a successful one at least. He walked into the fat living room to see his bag was fully packed, as was Sherlock's. Both bags were sitting beside each other, John's was plain black and Sherlock's had an antique look to it. Dark brown with a bit of wear and tear, probably passed down his family. Or not, sentiment wasn't something Sherlock held in his life. John shook the thought out of his mind and went to their bedroom to find Sherlock. Once he entered, he saw Sherlock packing a suitcase full of papers and documents that had to do with the case. How many murders had actually happened that there was this much information on the murderer? If there was so much information, how had Sherlock not solved the case already?

"Afternoon, Sherlock." John said, ending the silence and sitting beside him on the bed.

"Ah! John, you've returned home. Good, I hope you noticed your bag that I had gleefully packed for you. Everything is in there, don't worry. We will be meeting Lestrade at the underground station and will be taking a train to Huntingdon. The first murder had occurred there and we must get a move on! It will be leaving in a half hour, we will be staying at a motel there and will be talking to the local police and witnesses. They are not very happy about my presence, but what must be done, must be done. They've been lost for months at this case, I assume I shall have it completed in oh, a week at the most." Sherlock finished putting the papers in the suitcase, closing it, and getting up from the bed. He walked out of the room and to the living room, John heard a tiny bang and assumed he placed the suitcase on top of his luggage bag. John walked out of the room just as Sherlock was putting his scarf and coat on, grabbing his luggage bags, and walking out of the flat. John did the same, grabbing his own luggage bag and walked outside to the curb. He stood beside Sherlock as Sherlock was calling for a taxi. A few continued to ignore them and pass by until one taxi decided to stop and take them to the underground station.

"We might be a bit late, Lestrade will understand." Sherlock said in a little bit of a frustrated tone. John placed his hand on top of Sherlock's hand and squeezed gently, a simple gesture to calm the consulting detective down. Sherlock must have been upset that he wasn't able to solve this case right away but excited that it was a complicated case. Hopefully John was going to be able to take some time away from the case and start to plan their wedding somewhat, this wasn't something he could really put off and he didn't want to.

They arrived at the underground to see Lestrade impatiently looking at the clock waiting for John and Sherlock to arrive. Once he turned around and saw them, he let out a frustrated sigh and walked towards them, fast.

"Finally! Let's go, it leaves in five!" Lestrade turned around and headed off towards the train with John and Sherlock following behind. John felt bad for keeping them behind schedule, but he didn't know the surgery would take so long. They reached the train and boarded quickly, just seconds to spare. They found three empty seats and sat down, the ride was about a hour long with more stops than there should have been. During the ride, they had kept up little conversation, Lestrade asking about the engagement and congratulating them, telling John that he was happy he finally had asked. John just chuckled at that, he knew he waited a long time to ask, but the whole time he was so nervous about what Sherlock would say. They exited the train and left the station, Lestrade called a taxi for them to take them back to the hotel. Lestrade got into the passenger seat of the taxi while John and Sherlock took the back seats. The ride from the station to the hotel was a short one, for they could have walked. It was a silent ride, the taxi driver didn't say anything, he didn't even have music playing. Lestrade paid for the ride and they got out, grabbing their bags from the trunk of the taxi and walking into the mini hotel. It was a nice size, nothing fancy but nothing cheap.

They got their room keys and headed to the elevator. Lestrade had the room beside John and Sherlock's, which they shared a room. They got to the fifth floor of the hotel and the elevator stopped, opening up to a little foyer that had two hallways. Sherlock went down the left hallway, John and Lestrade following not too far behind. They reached their rooms, which weren't that far from the elevators. Sherlock used the key card and opened the door, he walked in and placed his suitcase and luggage at the foot of one of the beds, John did the same. Sherlock hadn't really talked during the whole trip here, he was very silent. He unlocked the suitcase and opened it up, grabbing papers and laying them on the table, already making himself a working desk. He pulled up a chair and sat down, placing his hands together under his chin, staring at the papers. There were numerous files of people, victims, witnesses, and suspects. John stood behind Sherlock, peeking over his shoulder at some of the files. The murderer had killed 10 women so far, all in different but similar ways. Sherlock was correct, these murders were similar to those of Jack The Ripper and from the murders in Edgar Allan Poe stories. Strange, this was a new one. Apparently there was never any evidence of anyone being near the person while they were murdered, no traces of a human being but the victim.

"Are you hungry? I'm not, but you seem hungry, you had a long surgery and had not eaten when you returned home. Lestrade is hungry as well, his stomach was very loud on the way here. He had not eaten all day. Let us go somewhere, walking distance. I don't need to be in a taxi right now." Sherlock got up and placed out his hand for John to take. John realized Sherlock had never taken his coat and scarf off and neither had John. "Shall we?" Sherlock asked, winking at John. He took his hand and walked out of the hotel room. Sherlock walked over to Lestrade's door and knocked on it. Lestrade opened the door, his coat and scarf was still on him as well.

"Dinner?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, I'm starving. Thought you'd never ask." Lestrade said, walking out of the hotel room and closing the door behind him.

They walked to the elevator together and rode it down to the bottom floor. They walked out of the hotel and Lestrade started looking on his phone for places to eat.

"What are you hungry for?" He asked, looking up at them both.

"Italian." Sherlock responded dully, Lestrade started typing into his phone and found an Italian restaurant only five blocks away. They headed in that direction and after a few minutes, they reached their destination. This place was similar looking to Angelo's, but it wouldn't be the same with Angelo there to place a candle in front of them for dinner like he did every time. They entered the restaurant and they were all greeted by a brunette hostess who seemed a bit frustrated that they had walked in.

"A table for three?" She asked, annoyed. Lestrade nodded and she picked up three menus and walked them to a table in the back corner of the restaurant. They took their seats, John sat across from Sherlock and Lestrade sat beside Sherlock. The frustrated hostess set the menus down in front of them. "Your waitress is Krystal and she will be with you shortly." The hostess turned on her heels and walked back to the podium, where she leaned on it and pulled out her phone and went texting away.

"I'm not hungry, but you two may eat." Sherlock said, taking John away from looking around.

"Sherlock, you need to eat." John said in an irritated voice, he always hated when he said this. John really worried when Sherlock didn't eat, there was once a case where Sherlock went two weeks without eating, he had only drank tea until John had forced him to eat food.

"Food slows me down." Sherlock answered, as always.

"I don't care, Sherlock. You're going to eat something, okay? Get some pasta or pizza. You're going to eat." John said, putting the menu down and glaring at Sherlock, who wasn't looking up at John, he was looking down, he seemed upset. John sighed. Sherlock looked up and opened his mouth to say something when Lestrade's phone started to ring. He pulled out his phone and answered the call.

"Hello?" He answered, a long pause. "We'll be right there, did anyone have a visual on the murderer? No? Again? Dammit, we'll try to get their soon. Thanks, yup." He ended the call and placed his phone back in his pocket in a hurried mess. "We have to go now, there was another murder, just happened, people heard screaming and apparently the murderer had fled but no one saw them." They all got up and put their coats on, rushing out of the restaurant. John refused to give the hostess an apologetic glance, she didn't seem to notice them leave in such a hurry anyway. Lestrade had told them there was no reason to take a taxi, the murder had apparently happened just a few blocks away. He was right, once they turned on a corner, there were police cars every where and a police officer was putting up 'Do Not Cross' tape as soon as they arrived. Lestrade showed his I.D. to the officer and walked past him, Sherlock and John followed. They walked into the apartment complex where the murder had supposedly occurred. Once they walked into the room, John was hit with a wave of fresh blood. He looked around and saw this woman's body all over the room. Her fingers had been cut off and thrown around the room, her body looked to be completely mangled to death. She was cut up every where, and her left hand was missing. Lestrade walked out of the room as fast as he entered and ended up vomiting outside of the room. Sherlock calmly walked up to the body and started to examine her. He was silent the whole time, but as he was around the fresh blood longer, his face was becoming paler. John wasn't sure if he could hold back this feeling to vomit much longer, who would ever do this? Sherlock must have deduced something shocking, because he stopped moving. He looked as if he had just saw a ghost.

"Sherlock?" John managed to say, swallowing hard.

"This... This is... It's... Molly Hooper's body.." Sherlock said, standing up slowly, still looking at the dead body on the ground.


	3. Chapter 2 Sentiment Is A Chemical Defect

**AN: I would like to apologize greatly for the shortness of this chapter, I had major writer's block and zi have been stressed out with catching up on my assignments that I just did not have time to write this. I promise I shall have chapter 3 in two to three days, hopefully, as long as my teachers do not give me outrageous amounts fo work.**

**Anyways, I hope you're enjoying the story. Now that my writer's block is gone, i have wonderful ideas for chapter 3! That shall be a much longer chapter, so be prepared to read, A LOT!**

**Reviews are always great and I love hearing what you have to say about what is going on in the story. Also, any ideas you give me WILL be added into the story, so go ahead, give me an idea if you'd like!**

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><p><em><strong>Sherlock's POV<strong>_

That was her, Sherlock was certain of it. Her face may have been unrecognizable to someone like John or Lestrade, but all Sherlock had to do was get one good look at the face and he knew exactly who it was. Molly had been brutally attacked, this murder was much different. Body parts were missing, her face was horribly beaten to bloody and bruised. Oh, poor Molly, Sherlock thought, although that was all he felt. A quick sensation of grief swept over him, but it went away as soon as it had entered him. He didn't exactly know what to say or do.

"Sherlock, you can't be certain! I just saw her at work yesterday! How could she have gotten here, eh? Her husband hadn't said a thing of her missing." Lestrade asked from outside the room, he wasn't able to enter the room due to the excessive smell of blood.

"He doesn't know she went missing, Lestrade. She is still on duty at work, but what brought her here? Someone forced her, they must have. The whole way out here, for what? This? It's a sign, they know we're starting to look at this." Sherlock responded, walking around Molly's body.

"Don't be so paranoid, Sherlock. Not everyone is after you!" Lestrade yelled, he slightly poked his head through a crack between the door and the frame. Sherlock stopped walking and looked over at him, giving him a questioning glance then he continued walking.

"Why attack Molly and why send her the whole way out here?" Sherlock bent down and examined her wrists, bruise marks were left there by large hands gripping tightly onto them. So she was forced here, obvious. He checked her neck for any signs of strangling, there were none. She must had died from blood loss, so she was alive when they started to remove her body parts. But they were all missing, not hidden somewhere, the murderer must have taken them with him. Yes, him, it is highly unlikely a female would have such large hands. Sherlock continued to examine Molly's body and found nothing more important. He stood and walked to the door. "Remove her body at once, look around for any sign of.. Other body parts and send them off to.." Sherlock stopped himself, he couldn't send these to Molly because that was Molly's body lying there. "Send them to someone." Sherlock walked out of the room and brushed past Lestrade, who was vomiting yet again. Sherlock heard the faint sound of John's footsteps behind him.

"Sherlock! Wait up!" Then there he was, John Watson, walking in unison of the consulting detective. "Let's just head back to the hotel, alright? Nothing to worry about there, I suppose?" John sounded worried and sad, he looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock looked down at him and saw tears glistening in his eyes. _Oh humans and their emotions, how do they survive such a thing?_ Sherlock thought. He took John's hand and continued walking back to the hotel, he didn't know what to do, other than take care of John's grieving for the next few hours or so. Sherlock did not feel comfortable having to solve a case that involved the murder of someone he knew, although murder was an every day thing. You cannot stop what someone else plans to do, you may try, but you most likely will not succeed.

They reached their hotel room and once entering, John sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He let out soft sobbing noises and Sherlock sat down beside him, placing his arm around him and holding him close. He kissed the top of his head and let John continue to cry onto his shoulder. John would be able to get through this, but it may take more than a few hours. After a few moments, John went from sobbing to sniffling, and he looked up at Sherlock.

"Don't you miss her?" He asked, with puffy, watery, and red eyes.

"Yes, I do."

"Why aren't you upset?"

"Sentiment is a chemical defect I prefer not to take upon others. I will not burden myself with emotions that are not worthy." Sherlock looked down at John who went from upset to frustrated in the blink of an eye.

"Chemical defect? And what is that supposed to mean? I know you don't have sentiment for really anything, Sherlock, but you could at least show some decency for a woman you've known for years who was just brutally murdered!" John got up and stomped to the door. "I'll be out, finding something to entertain myself. I'll be back before midnight, at least." John walked out of the hotel room and slammed the door.

Sherlock sat there, astounded at what just happened. _Was it something I said?_ Sherlock thought, confused in his own thoughts of what had occurred. Yes, he was just a bit upset that Molly was murdered, but he was not going to let that take over his thought process of this case. He had a murderer to catch! Wasn't that more important to John? Sherlock got up and moved over to the table where he had placed all of the victim's files and the files on possible suspects. The list of suspects grew and grew, day by day. The police were never sure on who it could possibly be and the description of the murderer changed every day. But it was not numerous people committing these crimes, no, no, it was one smart man. One man that Sherlock Holmes was going to be proud of catching.

Sherlock sat back in the chair and put his finger tips together at the bottom of his chin, he stretched out his legs under the table and closed his eyes. Going off, deep into his mind palace, where maybe some of this would make some sense to him.

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><p><strong><em>John's POV<em>**

John was so frustrated, angry, and upset with Sherlock and himself. Molly Hooper, who he had met from the start of this crazy journey with Sherlock, was murdered. All Sherlock could say was that sentiment was a chemical defect, that's it. Not a damn thing else! John barely got to know Molly, even though he had known her for so long, he didn't really know her. He was still upset about everything, she was gone now. Who would tell her husband? Lestrade would probably have to make the call or visit him.. Oh, John pitied the man. They had not been married for even two years and he was to be told his dear wife had been murdered. Marriage, the thought raced through John's mind. How was he supposed to plan this wedding? Sherlock was not going to be of any help and John was still angry at him. Maybe John should just ignore allowing Sherlock to plan anything. But that would not be fair and it would be quiet rude, this was their wedding. Sherlock had to have some ideas in it, but what if Sherlock refused to plan anything? Should John wait until after this case? That seemed like a good idea, but from the looks of it, Sherlock was stumped. The great Sherlock Holmes was stuck on a case that would take him longer than a week to solve. He was going to be very frustrated with himself if he can not solve this case in under two weeks, this might become their longest case yet.

John hadn't realized how far he walked from the hotel until he stopped to look around and noticed that he was somewhere he had never been before. He went to grab for his phone in his pocket, but had found out that he had left it at the hotel. Had he only walked straight? Or did he take any turns? _Great, I can hear it now. 'You see, but you do not observe.'_ John thought, as he always did, Sherlock's voice was in John's head a lot recently. John kind of felt like they were slipping away from each other, although their engagement should bring them closer together correct? Hopefully, maybe if John just found a way back to the hotel and apologized to Sherlock for his random outburst, then all of John's worries would disappear. Well, that's what John hoped, now all he had to do was get back to the hotel..

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><p><strong><em>Sherlock's POV<em>**

Lestrade had come into the hotel room some time after John left to check up on the two, but Sherlock had told him that John had gotten frustrated and walked out. Lestrade tried asking Sherlock how he felt, but Sherlock shooed the conversation away. Sherlock was explaining a few things on the case until Lestrade interrupted him.

"Sherlock, tell me how you really feel about John Watson and tell me, if you're not upset over the death of someone who cared greatly about you, how do you ever see yourself marrying?" Lestrade had completely stopped Sherlock from pacing around the room. Sherlock just stood there, staring down at Lestrade, who had taken a seat on the corner of the bed. He didn't know what to say to him, a rise of panic started to form inside of him. He continued pacing and tried very hard to ignore what Lestrade had just asked him.

"Sherlock? Do you love John?" Lestrade asked, he was not going to let the conversation drop.

"Yes, I do, greatly. I love him and care about him a lot, I worry about him all the time. It's a... Human error.." Sherlock responded, he did not like how his answer sounded out loud, as it sounded better in his head.

"Human error? Whatever the hell that is, so if you care so greatly about John, how does... How does Molly's death not affect you?" Lestrade cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the fact that he was about to start tearing up.

"I never attached myself to Molly Hooper, you know I ignored her motions of sentiment and feelings and all that. No matter how much I embarrassed and offended her, she was still there. Yes, I'm upset but I have more important things to worry about, like who did this. Everyone has their time of death, some sooner than others." The next part of what Sherlock was going to say was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He went over to his coat and pulled his phone out of the inside pocket. He looked at it, blocked number. He slid the green bar and answered the call, hesitantly.

"Hello? Who is this?" Sherlock asked, there was a bunch of static on the other end but Sherlock heard the faint shrieking of a female in the background.

"Oh hello, Sherlock Holmes. I hope you like to play games, because I don't think you've ever played one quiet like this." Sherlock could not recognize who was speaking, he had never heard this man in his life. On the other end, the shrieking of the woman became louder and louder until there was a sound of tearing and grunting on the other end. Then finally, silence fell and the call ended. As soon as that happened, Lestrade's phone went off and he answered it.

"Hello, Lestrade speaking.. There has been another murder?.. Where?.. Alright.. We'll be there soon.." He ended the call and looked up at Sherlock. "Off we go."

"What about John?"

"He will know where we had gone, hopefully. We must hurry, Sherlock, come on!" They both exited the hotel room and hurried to get a taxi as to which they told to taxi driver where to drop them off at.

_I suppose this game has just begun,_ Sherlock thought, _oh my dear Watson, I wish I could explain to you how much I truly do love you.._


	4. Chapter 3: Wedding Planner

**AN: I was having some issues earlier on trying to upload this chapter yesterday, so I apologize for it being uploaded so late.**

**In other news, I would like to thank basswolf1 for an idea that I used just a bit in this chapter. I will use it later on, but with the case still going on, I don't see them returning home for a few more chapters. So your whole idea will be used later on :)**

**And to xXSchmayXx, I will be using your idea later on as well! **

**Thank you both for your ideas and I will use them completely, maybe with a few changes, but I promise I'll make it work!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had writer's block on it D: so I tried to write as much as possible. Thank you for reading the whole way to a third book. :D**

**Don't forget, you can leave reviews or ANY ideas that you have and I will use them. It may not be in the next chapter, but I'll try to interpret your idea into the story somehow.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em><strong>Sherlock's POV <strong>_

They arrived at the crime scene after a 20 minute taxi ride, they both got out of the taxi and walked under the police tape. Donovan was standing beside a police officer with her arms crossed, waiting for them.

"Hello Greg, hello freak." She gave Sherlock a disgusted look and started walking them towards the back of the apartment building. "Neighbors say they were screaming and heard a few bangs come from back here and called the police, once the police arrived they found the woman's body ripped apart. In the same state as all the other murders, so at least we know the murderer is staying near to his home town."

"How do you know it's his home town? He could just be staying here while we are here." Sherlock questioned her, she turned around and glared at him, then continued walking. She lifted up the crime tape for them to walk under and soon they found themselves staring at a naked woman body. Donovan was right, this woman's limbs were torn apart, still attached, but barely. Sherlock walked over to the body and bent down, he picked up her hand and examined what was left of the wrist. There were signs of bruising and struggle, Sherlock stood up and walked around the body. Noting the lines of blood, she was harmed somewhere else and someone had dragged her here. Probably threatened at gun point, Sherlock bent down and examined her temples. The murderer had hit her right temple with a weapon, obviously the gun, knocking her out cold. She most likely was not awake while the murderer had ripped her limbs apart, or she had woken up while he was doing that. Sherlock stood back up and walked over to Lestrade who was facing the other way.

"So?" Lestrade asked, looking at Sherlock.

"Whoever had done this, knocked her out with a gun somewhere else and dragged her here. She was knocked out for a duration of the murderer raping her and ripping apart her limbs, but awoke midway through." Sherlock looked back at him and Lestrade sighed.

"We'll find this guy, somehow. Nothing on what he might look like?"

"This is one smart murderer, sadly, I was unable to find footprints, all I know is he has large hands. Assuming he's a larger man, but he may be taller as well. That's really all I have."

"Wow, the great Sherlock Holmes is stumped." Donovan added in with a sarcastic voice. Sherlock turned and looked at her, glaring at her.

"I'm going back to the hotel, if anything else happens, just call." Sherlock headed to the nearest street. He avoided getting in a taxi and just wanted to walk back to the hotel in silence.

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><p><strong><em> John's POV<em> **

John had walked back to the hotel and Sherlock was no where to be found. Maybe there was another murder? Maybe he went somewhere with Lestrade? It doesn't matter, John sat down at the small table in the hotel room and pulled out the wedding planner binder that he had brought with him. It was mostly empty, only containing little sticky notes here and there. John picked them up and threw them away, they weren't that important. John sat back and stared at the binder, he felt wrong for wanting to do this without Sherlock, but it's not like Sherlock would be of great help anyway. He rested his feet on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.

John awoke to the sound of Sherlock trying to get into the hotel room, he leaned to the side and opened up the door for him. John rubbed his eyes, how long had he been asleep? Sherlock sat the hotel key card on the table, not noticing the binder. He walked back to the bathroom and went inside, closing the door. John heard the shower start up and let out a sigh of frustration.

"He's going to ignore planning this whole entire wedding." John said to himself, getting up and getting out clothes to change into for bed. John changed, then grabbed the binder and sat down on the bed with it. He reached over and grabbed his laptop, then he started looking up some flowers for the wedding. That was the basics, just do something easy. Sherlock would have to agree with it, right? John started looking up simple flowers, like lilies, he didn't really want them to have roses unless they were clipped to their suits. John heard the shower stop and a few moments later Sherlock walked out of the bathroom with pajama pants on and no shirt. He took his towel and ruffled his hair, John smiled at him. He loved it when he ruffled his hair, Sherlock put the towel away and sat beside John.

"What's that? Wedding stuff?" Sherlock asked, taking the laptop. "Lilies? I don't like lilies."

"I was just starting at something simple, that's all.." John sighed. "Where have you been?"

"Another murder came up, I would have left a note but Lestrade insisted that we left right away." Sherlock looked up peonies and showed John. "What about peonies? I like peonies, they're nice."

"How about something with color? Lilies were a bad choice and peonies are common."

"Fine. How about anemones? Or campanulas? Campanulas are common but we could get purple ones." Sherlock asked, showing John plenty of pictures of them. They were nice, but he didn't really want purple ones and John doubted Sherlock wanted anything pink.

"Sure, we can use purple campanulas, so then our tux would have to match them. So a purple under shirt? Or purple tie."

"That's fine." Sherlock picked up the binder and wrote down the flowers they were having. "What's next? Place? Ooo, let's go to Amsterdam."

"I'm not going to Amsterdam for our wedding, Sherlock. We can keep it in London."

"But that's booring." Sherlock huffed.

"It's cheaper and our friends and family won't need to go so far."

"But.."

"No, Sherlock." Sherlock huffed again and crossed his arms, he was just like a little child. Always getting what he wanted and when something didn't go his way, he would pout about it. John taught himself to just ignore it and move on.

"But Jooohn, there's a nice place in Amsterdam we could have the wedding. Please? Please, please, pelase?" Sherlock whined and begged.

"What did I say, Sherlock? No, we are having it in London."

"But I don't want it in London!"

"I don't want to spend more money on getting everyone to Amsterdam."

"They can take themselves!"

"Then no one will want to go, Sherlock."

"Why can't we have it in Amsterdam? It's not that hard, it's simple." Sherlock got up and walked around the hotel room.

"You're making such a big deal out of nothing, Sherlock, you can deal with having the wedding in London. There is nothing wrong with London and we could have it in a park."

"Fine, but I'm choosing who comes."

"Oh no you're not, we both are." The arguing continued on for a good hour, they still only had the types of flowers planned out. John closed the binder and his computer and placed them on the table. He said he was going to bed and laid down, falling asleep. Sherlock sat at the table all night, not getting a single minute of sleep.

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><p><strong><em>Sherlock's POV <em>**

Sherlock had stayed up all night watching John while he slept. John seemed to be really frustrated with Sherlock and all the arguing they had done. John woke up a few times through out the night, always facing Sherlock, and he would turn on his other side to fall back asleep. Sherlock also heard Lestrade return back to his hotel room around 12pm, he must have been out drinking. When John finally decided to get out of bed and stop ignoring Sherlock, well, sort of. John had gotten up and went straight to the bathroom, Sherlock assumed he was rinsing his hair and brushing his teeth or something. In the meantime, Sherlock got up and changed into different clothes so that he and John could go somewhere to eat breakfast and maybe Lestrade would join them, that was doubtful though. Once John had finally finished refreshing himself up, he walked out of the bathroom and grabbed a few things.

"Would you like to go for breakfast?" John asked after a few moments of silence.

"I want to... I just wanted.. I.. Want to say sorry, for last night, John. I shouldn't have acted like that." Sherlock looked down at the floor and didn't want to look at John.

"We're going to argue, Sherlock. We have to agree on things." John chuckled. "We have to be able to agree on little precise things for this wedding, we are going to argue. So it's okay, I forgive you." Sherlock looked at John and smiled.

"You do?" John nodded and walked over to him and gave him a hug. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, never wanting to let go. He lifted up John's head just a bit, and kissed him. A long and meaningful kiss. John pulled back slightly.

"Hungry?" He smiled.

"That's what I say, not you." Sherlock chuckled and kissed John's forehead. They walked out of the hotel room, hand in hand, and took the elevator to the front entrance. John went over to the receptionist and asked where a few good places to eat were. He walked back to Sherlock and told him that there was a place nearby, they could walk. And so they did, it only took about 10 minutes to get to the little café.

"We should sit outside, it's nice today." John suggested, taking a seat at one of the outside tables. Sherlock sat down across from him. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really, I'm still thinking about this case, this murderer leaves nothing behind!" Sherlock sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't eat, I'm not hungry anymore."

"How could he leave nothing behind?"

"That's just it.. John! You're a genius, oh how I love you. He leaves nothing behind because he must clean up afterwards. No, that's not possible. There are no traces of any cleaning chemicals. Never mind, not possible." Sherlock sighed.

"Maybe this case is too hard for you, Sherlock.."

"Don't tell me that." Sherlock's phone went off, he was getting a call. He pulled out his phone and checked the number, blocked. He slid the green bar and answered.

"Hello?" On the other line there was faint shuffling and muffled cries.

"Sherlock Holmes? Is that you? Oh I've got a murder for you to solve, old boy. How about you solve the murder of your dearest Mrs. Hudson, eh?" There were screams of terror on the other line and the call was cut off suddenly. Sherlock slowly put his phone away, in shock.

"Sherlock? What's wrong? Who was it?" John asked franticly.

"He has Mrs. Hudson." John looked at Sherlock with wide eyes, tears forming at the corner of his left eye. "He's going to kill her."


	5. Chapter 4: Fighting

**AN: I apologize for this chapter being posted later as well, I've been having a lot of school work that has been dictating my life and my sleep. This is a much shorter chapter than normal, I've been so worried and stressed about school that I had writer's block during most of this. I recently found out that a very good friend of mine that lives in a different state has been in a car accident and he is in critical condition. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted, but I'll try to find time to type it up. Again, I'm sorry, but my school life and friends come before all of this. I'll try to get the next chapter posted within the next five days.**

**I added in the idea from another review and I hope I did a good job at it, I hope you like it.**

**Enjoy :)**

**Don't forget to leave reviews on more ideas, I really love it when you guys help me out, I've been so stressed, I lose train of thought on what to write and then I get stuck. If only school wasn't so overwhelming, right? Poo on high school hahaha. **

**It gives me sort of like, a good feeling knowing that I interpret what you guys would like to see. **

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><p><em><strong>John's POV<strong>_

John had stayed seated outside of the café, but Sherlock didn't. Sherlock got up slowly, forgetting his coat and scarf, and turned on his heels walking fast back to the hotel. John stayed where he was, they couldn't return home, Lestrade would make them stay for the case. Although Sherlock wouldn't listen, things here were unfinished. But Mrs. Hudson was in trouble...

John had finally snapped out of his thoughts and got up, he walked over to where Sherlock had been seated and picked up his coat and scarf. John walked back to the hotel and waited in the main entrance for the elevator to come down. While waiting, John looked in a mirror on the wall and realized how horrid he looked. The shock from hearing what would happen to Mrs. Hudson was still there, his eyes were blood shot and he was as pale as a ghost. The elevator dinged and John walked onto it, pushing the correct floor button. When the elevator reached their floor John walked out and walked dully to their room, inserting the key card into the slot and opening the door. Once he looked inside, he saw Sherlock curled in a ball facing the opposite way, crying. John could hear Sherlock sobbing into the pillow and it stopped him in his tracks. He held the door open, he didn't know what to do. _Sherlock Holmes_ _was_ _crying_. John closed the door silent and put Sherlock's coat and scarf on the table, he walked over to Sherlock and sat beside him on the bed. Before doing anything, John was hesitant, what if Sherlock didn't want to be comforted? John finally placed his hand on Sherlock's arm and Sherlock bolted right out of the bed, landing swiftly on his feet. He cleared his throat and ran to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it. John sighed and let a few of his tears fall as well. Sherlock was so broken over what had happened to Molly and what will happen to Mrs. Hudson that his emotions finally broke free and overcame his sociopathy. Sherlock did actually have feelings, deep down, but he still had feelings.

After a few moments, John heard the bathroom door open and saw Sherlock walk out. He looked horrid as well, puffy red, bloodshot eyes, his naturally pale skin even worse, and a runny nose. John got off of the bed and walked over to Sherlock to give him a hug, to comfort him.

"Don't touch me." Sherlock said in a nasty voice, putting a hand up to stop John where he was.

"Sherlock.. I know this is hard.."

"I'm perfectly fine John, don't you see? Nothing is wrong with me. Nothing at all." Sherlock cleared his throat and sat down at the table, pushing his coat and scarf to the side.

"Sherlock I heard you crying."

"You heard nothing." Sherlock answered him sharply and hesitantly. "I'm fine, has Lestrade called?"

"Are you kidding me right now Sherlock?! Mrs. Hudson is in danger and you really want to continue on with this case?!"

"What the hell else do you want me to do John?" Sherlock got up and stood over John, John could see he was getting angry. "Hm? What?! She's going to die!" Sherlock's voice cracked when he said die and John saw yet again, the tears forming at his eyes. "We can't do anything to save her! We won't make it back to Baker street in time and even if we did, even if we did they would have killed her!" Tears were falling down his cheeks, his lips were twitching slightly, and his hands were shaking. Sherlock was going to have another breakdown. "We can't sit here and mope about something that won't change, do you understand? John? We need to just move on with our lives."

That enraged something in John, move on? How do you move on from that? How do you move on from knowing that the woman who cared for you through everything was going to die and you were going to have to solve her murder? John clenched his fists and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Don't you tell me that I should move on from knowing that Mrs. Hudson is going to die or is already dead, Sherlock."

"Well too bad, John. It's life, people die all the time."

That set off raging fireworks in John's whole body, his only reaction was a bad one. He pulled back his fist and punched Sherlock in the jaw, knocking the taller man to the ground. John stopped himself from throwing any more punches at Sherlock and just stood there. Sherlock held onto his bleeding jaw and groaned in pain.

"I don't ever want you to say that to me again, Sherlock." John stepped over him and walked out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

><p><em><strong> Sherlock's POV<strong>_

Sherlock stayed on the ground, holding his jaw. After some time, he got up and stumbled over to the bathroom, he turned the light on and looked in the mirror. Blood had dripped down his neck and onto his shirt, his jaw was swollen as well. He had trouble moving his mouth and winced in pain as he tried to dab the blood from the cut. Sherlock deducted that John had cut into his jaw with his ring, deeply enough, to cause a bit of nerve damage. He let out a painful sighed and continued cleaning up the blood.

When he finally finished, he changed his clothes and sat on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning back on the bed post. Sherlock closed his eyes and entered his mind palace, where he went to the memories he had shared with John, all the happy and sad ones. He remembered the first time he met John, who had walked in with an old friend. It was like it was yesterday, Sherlock bringing up the room mate situation with John, thus starting their wonderful adventures. Sherlock also remembered all the times that John had had a girlfriend, the jealously and envy Sherlock had felt. He didn't want anyone taking his blogger away, especially a woman. He remembered every waking moment he had with John, their first kiss, their first _everything_. Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace from the sound of knocking at the door. It was Lestrade, Sherlock got up and opened it.

"Yes?"

"Sherlock? Are you alright? You look like you'd been crying. What happened? Where's John?" Lestrade bombarded Sherlock with question after question and Sherlock blocked him out. "Sherlock?! Answer me! What has been going on with you two? Hell, ever since you got engaged you two had been fighting! What the hell has gotten into you?" Lestrade looked really concerned, he really cared for Sherlock and John.

"I.. I don't... I don't know." Sherlock stammered the words out. "We just.. He's been getting so mad and I just blew him off and I told him that everyone died and we shouldn't grieve or something and Mrs. Hudson is going to die.." Sherlock trailed off, tears falling down his cheeks. "I can't lose Mrs. Hudson, I can't. She's been my mother, my dear old mother to me. I don't know what I could do without her there, taking care of me.." Sherlock started to cry again and took in a deep breath, trying to stop himself.

"Oh Sherlock.. Oh.. How do you know what's going to happen to Mrs. Hudson?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and took another deep breath. "They called, who ever had been committing these crimes, called me and told me they would kill her. She started screaming and the line ended.."

"How do you know it was the murderer?"

"Can't you see it, Lestrade?! It's so obvious!" Sherlock groaned and punched a wall, causing his right knuckle to be cut open and start bleeding. his knuckles started to bruise immediately.

"Calm down, Sherlock. Getting angry won't fix anything, what happened to your lip?"

"John punched me." Lestrade looked at Sherlock and narrowed his eyes.

"Do you really think marriage is the right choice for you two?"

Sherlock stood straighter at that comment and looked down at Lestrade. He didn't say anything back, but he thought about what he had said. Maybe Sherlock shouldn't have agreed to marriage, maybe he could have said no. This wasn't the right time to be marrying John, they had a case to work on. Sherlock was married to his work.. He didn't know how he could handle being actually married and committed to someone. He cared for John, but deep inside he didn't want to have feelings. He refused to care for others, sentiment was nothing. He didn't want to waste time caring for someone, but without knowing about it, he fell in love with John. He didn't think he could do this whole marriage thing.

"I don't think so.. I think you're right.. I think I should call off the wedding.." Sherlock replied after some time, breaking the silence and causing shock to Lestrade.

"I didn't expect you to say that, Sherlock. I expected you to say something different. Do you love him?"

"No. Yes, I think. No, I don't. I don't know. I don't think so." Once Sherlock finished his sentence, John walked into the hotel room. He stared at Sherlock, still angry from what had occurred earlier.

"So you want to cancel the wedding? Because I can do that for you, Sherlock. I'll cancel it. We don't need to get married, we don't need to be together. Married to your work and everything, it's more important isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have asked." John walked over to his suitcase and started packing his stuff. "When you're done with this stupid case, you can come back home and talk to me. As for now, I don't want to hear from you." John closed his suitcase, zipping it shut, and headed out of the hotel room. Sherlock followed after him, walking fast to catch up. He grabbed John by the elbow and turned him around.

"John listen to me." Sherlock begged.

"What do you want?" John looked up at Sherlock, glaring at him.

"I'm.. Sorry. I do love you. I just, I don't, this is all new and different to me and I just don't know how to tell you or show you and I'm sorry that you think I don't care when I do." Sherlock looked down at him and held his hand. "Will you come back to the hotel room with me?"

"No." John pulled his hand away from Sherlock's and turned around, stomping off to the elevator. He looked back. "Next time you want to apologize for something, don't use your fake tone that you use with victim's family members to get them to do what you want." He looked forward and hit the elevator button. John didn't look back at Sherlock, getting on the elevator. Sherlock watched at the elevator doors closed and the elevator made a ding, letting Sherlock know that it had went down to the main lobby.

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><p><strong>AN: I apologize in advanced for some of the grammar errors in this, I went through and fixed everything and then the FanFic website decided to log me out when I saved it and it's 10:50pm and I am sleepy.<strong>


	6. Chapter 5: Miss Me?

**AN: I'm honestly really proud of myself, I typed this whole chapter up in a day AND I was still able to complete all of my big projects and assignments. I know it isn't the normal 2,000 words like my other chapters have been, but I'm still happy with it!**

**I will be posting the next chapter in the next five days or so, so stay tuned! :)**

**Anyways, enjoy reading. Thank you for the reviews, you guys are amazing I'm serious, thank you so much for the support.**

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><p><strong><em>Sherlock's POV<em>**

Sherlock stayed in place for a good amount of time, staring at where John had just been standing. He didn't know what to do or where to go. Had John just broken up with him? Was John going to end their engagement? Was John going to move out? So many questions started to run through Sherlock's mind all at once, he had no idea what to do. He could run after John again, he wasn't very far, or was he? Sherlock had lost track at how long he had been standing there. It couldn't have been that long could it? What if he did go after him anyway? John didn't want to speak to Sherlock at the moment or any time soon. So that would be a pretty pointless idea. But when was this case going to end? That's when John said he would talk to Sherlock is when he returned home with a solved case.. So who had done these murders? Sherlock started to not really care anymore about what was going on here. He just wanted to go home and to John and try to make things better with him. Things didn't need to be like this and John misunderstood what Sherlock had told Lestrade, that's all, right? Sherlock turned around slowly and walked back to the hotel room in a sulking fashion. Once he opened the hotel room door, Lestrade was sitting at the table going through the files. Well, not really going through them. He was wasting time and waiting for Sherlock to return.

"Listen, Sherlock, I'm.. I'm really sorry, I didn't think John would hear what you said and I didn't expect to him react like that." Lestrade said as soon as he saw Sherlock walk in.

"Get out." Sherlock responded in a very deep and threatening voice, holding the door open for Lestrade.

"What?" Lestrade said, looking very confused.

"I said, get out." Sherlock looked down at Lestrade, narrowing his eyes and glaring at him. He was giving him a very sinister look. Lestrade immediately got out of the chair and walked out of the hotel room, going back to his. Sherlock slammed the door behind him and sat down on the bed. He placed his arm where John would have slept, feeling his heart drop, knowing that John won't be there with him for the rest of his stay. Sherlock moving into a laying position on the bed and pulled the cover over him. He pulled his legs up close to his chest and closed his eyes. Thinking about what he was going to do when he returned home to 221B Baker Street.

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><p><strong><em> John's POV<em>**

John didn't regret leaving, or walking out like he did. He didn't regret not looking back at Sherlock and he didn't regret not saying he loved him. How can you love someone who doesn't even know if they love you back? John looked down at his left hand, he had bought himself an engagement ring to match Sherlock's. He fiddled with the ring and slid it off of his ring finger. He wasn't going to throw it out or throw it in the ocean, that was too cliché. Instead, he would just keep it, he put the ring in his pocket and continued towards the train station to catch the late night train back to London. John leaned his head back on the train window and closed his eyes. He definitely was not tired, he was frustrated and angry with himself and with Sherlock. He understood that Sherlock didn't posses feelings but John felt.. He felt like Sherlock knew that he loved him and that Sherlock was able to understand what he felt towards John. John couldn't go to a wedding and stand in front of a man who didn't know if he loved him or not. He just couldn't do that to himself, maybe they were better off as friends all along.. A consulting detective and his blogger right? That's how it was supposed to be? That's how everyone wanted it.

The train ride seemed shorter than it was supposed to be, but John was too lost in his thoughts to really keep track of time. He got off the train and walked up the stairs to the main roads. He could have taken a cab, but he didn't need to deal with a cabbie at this moment. He decided to walk, whether it would take him a while or not, walking was going to be the best for him. As he was walking, he remembered what had happened.. Mrs. Hudson was going to be murdered. That made John walk a lot faster. He almost ended up running the whole time home, once arriving, he burst through the door and yelled out.

"Mrs. Hudson! Are you home?!" It was late at night, John looked at the clock, almost 2am. If she was home, she wouldn't be awake. He yelled out again. "Mrs. Hudson!" John heard a brief shuffling and the sound of a lock moving. Mrs. Hudson came walking out of her apartment door, rubbing her eyes.

"John? Is that you? What are you doing up so late deary? Shouldn't you be with Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson said in a soft, quiet tone. John ran up to her and hugged her tightly, she made a surprised noise and he let go slightly.

"Oh Mrs. Hudson you're alright! I thought.. We thought you were dead."

"Dead? Oh, silly boys. I'll be here for a long while. What brings you two here so late? Where's Sherlock?"

"We.. I came here alone. We got into an argument and I walked out on him. I told him that I was going to end the engagement." Mrs. Hudson put her hand over her mouth.

"You've got to be kidding.. What happened? Come on inside I'll make you a cuppa. Tell me everything boy." She grabbed John's hand and led him inside to the kitchen, she pulled the chair out for him and went to start the tea. "Now, tell me everything that happened between you two."

"Well.." John went on explaining everything that had been going on, explaining how he overheard what Sherlock and Lestrade were talking about and how he basically blew up on Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson placed the cup of tea in front of John and patted his hand. She sat down across from him.

"Now John, I understand that this is a rough time for you two, I really do. But goodness, completely ending it over this? You two are dears and you two are wonderful together. Sherlock has never been so alive since you moved in, really, he hasn't. Yes, Sherlock is obviously going to be busy, I mean you asked him to marry you right in the beginning of a case! You know how he is with those, all excited and happy. Did he ever tell you about his cocaine problems before? Probably not, but, it's true. The cases are what get him his rush, as you kids would say these days. Ever since you two had become a thing, he started needing you more than he did the cases. You two have been through a lot, both of you almost dying on me.. But, he needs you John.. He really does.. Without you, he really can't function. You are the greatest thing to ever walk into his life and I don't want to see you go." She smiled at him and got up. "You finish that cuppa and there is more water for you in the kettle, I should get back to sleep. You may go up to your apartment when you're ready." She walked out of the kitchen and went to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

John stayed there and slowly sipped at his tea, thinking of everything Mrs. Hudson had just told him. She was right, John really didn't love Sherlock and he knew, he just knew Sherlock loved him back. Whether he understood it or not, he knew Sherlock loved him back. John went up to their apartment and walked back to their room, out of the corner of his eyes he saw a figure sitting on their bed. Turning on the light revealed who it was. John dropped his cup of tea and took a step back against the door, swallowing in shock.

_ Moriarty._

"Did you miss me?"

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><p><em><strong> Sherlock's POV<strong>_

Sherlock had fallen asleep, he didn't know what time it was and he didn't know how long he had been asleep. He turned around to look over at John, who wasn't there. Sherlock had forgotten all about their argument they had. He closed his eyes again, wishing that when he were to open them, John would have been laying beside him. But that wasn't going to happen, nor was it ever to happen again probably. Sherlock rolled back over and got out of bed, wrapping his silk robe tightly around his body. He picked up his phone and was taken aback, he had three missed calls from John and an unread text.

_Mrs. Hudson is safe, whoever planned to harm her lied._

_ Bad news though.. _

_Moriarty is back. _

_JW_

Sherlock calmly put his phone back onto the table and got back into bed, he pulled to cover close to him and held onto it. He started shaking, slowly at first but it got worse. Moriarty was dead. He was dead.

But he wasn't.


	7. Chapter 6: More On The Case

**AN: Okay I'm going to apologize 100 times because I completely regret the ending of chapter 5 but I just stuck with it. I didn't really know how to write this chapter and I've been stressing out over projects. I managed to get this typed up though, so wee. But if you are starting to find the story boring I am so sorry but my brain is starting to lose my train of thought on this and I'd just really would like some ideas. :c**

**So if you want to help me boost the interest of this story please leave me a review and tell me what you want to see or of an idea or even if you like the story because telling me that gets me interested into writing and I'm going to stop rambling pointlessly on and on.**

**So ENJOY.**

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><p><em><strong>John's POV<strong>_

"What do you want, Jim?" John asked after some time of silence.

"I need your help." He got up and walked over to the window, moving the curtain slightly, looking out at the London streets.

"With what? I thought you killed yourself."

"You went on that.. That case with Sherlock correct? Well, whoever that murderer is, he's starting to target my people. Whoever he is, he's hard to find. He sent me this letter." Moriarty pulled out a perfectly folded piece of paper and held it out for John to take. John grabbed the letter from him and opened it up, reading it. "This was placed on my desk, my security cameras caught nothing and my staff had no idea that anything, or anyone, had been in my office. The letter states that this man is going to take out my enemies first and then me. Now, I take that very offensively. I can perfectly take out my own enemies." John gave him a strange look, Moriarty has failed to kill Sherlock how many times? Moriarty must have knew what he was thinking and let out a frustrated sigh. "You know what I mean. I need your help."

"Sherlock is trying to find this man as well, he has.. He killed Molly."

"I heard. So will you both help?"

"I'm not talking to Sherlock right now."

"I thought you two were getting married?" Well how the hell did he find out?

"Yes, but I don't think we will be anymore.."

"Oh, are you two fighting?" He smirked. "I assume I shall have to see Sherlock myself."

"He's with Lestrade, you'll get arrested."

"Again? Oh boohoo, I can get out of that." He walked out and John heard him exit the apartment building completely. Did John just tell him that Sherlock and him weren't getting married? Was it official now? He sighed and sat down on the bed. It might as well be with how horrible they argued. It doesn't matter, he needed to help Sherlock with this case but he didn't want to talk to him.. He didn't want their arguing to become worse and end on bad terms, even though they already were ending on bad terms. John went out to the living room and sat in his chair, staring at where Sherlock would have been sitting. John felt himself be overcome with emotions and he started to cry. Was this really the end of their relationship?

* * *

><p><strong><em> Sherlock's POV<em> **

Sherlock never answered John's text. He ended up putting his phone away and going back to the case. Then it hit him, the murderer had to be in the military or police force, due to how good he was at not leaving a trace of himself behind. He also has to have a thing for murdering women in the works of Jack The Ripper and Edgar Allan Poe. That could somewhat narrow it down. Sherlock picked up his phone and called Mycroft, Mycroft would have records of all of the military personnel and what they would keep with them while on base.

"Hello brother dear, what do you need?" Mycroft answered after the third ring.

"Give me all the information you have on every single member of the British military, I need it now." Sherlock replied in a hurried voice.

"Why? For that case? You still haven't solved it? You're getting slow, Sherlock."

"That isn't important, Mycroft! Now get me the information!" Sherlock just started to get angry and short tempered. He didn't want to deal with his brother's sarcasm, tonight definitely was a bad time for all of that. Mycroft sighed on the other line.

"Alright, I will have someone deliver it to your hotel room." He hung up.

Sherlock put his phone away and continued looking at the files of the possible suspects. He doubted any of these had done the murders, but there was a possible chance. Although they have no military or police record, no one could be that clean about a murder scene without that kind of information and training. It really was just a waiting game, waiting for Mycroft's people to bring in the paperwork. He'd have a lot to look over, if only John was here.. Sherlock cleared his throat and got up. He walked out of the hotel room and went over to Lestrade's hotel room door. He knocked silently, then when Lestrade never came to answer, he knocked louder. It was about 3 or 4 am, maybe Lestrade was sleeping. Too bad, Sherlock needed his help. He knocked again, louder than before, and heard Lestrade shuffle to the door. He opened up the door.

"Sherlock! It's 4:30am, what do you want? This better be important." Lestrade sounded tired and groggy. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Mycroft will be having someone drop paperwork off in my room and I need your help to sort through it."

"Can't we do this tomorrow?"

"No, this is important. Come on." Sherlock walked back to his hotel room and held the door open for Lestrade to walk in. Lestrade slowly walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, yawning and stretching. "This is important, do you understand? Don't fall asleep."

"Well I'll try not to! Did you ever do this to John?"

"Yes, a lot, I get bored."

"Bored? At this time? I'd hate to live with you."

"Same with you."

After what seemed like a few hours, Mycroft's people had finally stopped at the hotel room and were carrying box after box full of files of Mycroft's military. Some papers would be missing from the files, confidential stuff, but Sherlock just needed the list of what they kept with them on base. He opened up a box and started looking through the files. He and Lestrade had gotten through about 48 files before one file came up saying that this person had a book called Ripper. It was the same idea of someone who was committing murders in a Jack The Ripper style, although this book was for teens, it held some evidence for them. Sherlock placed that file off to the side and continued searching. After both of them went through 100 files each and only finding one with some evidence, they stopped. They still had many boxes left to go through, but Lestrade was starting to fall asleep while looking through them. Sherlock looked at the little clock on the bedside table, it was almost 7am.

"You can go back to your room. I can continue this without you." Sherlock said, breaking the long and hours filled silence.

"You should.. You should go to sleep too okay Sherlock? And.. And call John.. He probably misses you." Lestrade went back to his hotel room. Sherlock sat down on the bed and put his hands together under his chin. Trying to ignore what Lestrade had said, he needed to think of the case. He picked up one of the curious files and started analyzing it. This man was age 34, 5'10", and his name was Jason Alcazar. He has been in the army for ten years, not a very high rank, but he was up there. He succeeded excellently in all of his combat courses and even took extra courses. Sherlock placed this file with the other suspect files, this would be an interesting one.

Sherlock went to the bathroom and washed his hair in the sink and washed his face. He looked horrible, no sleep in days, he hasn't eaten anything either. He stared at himself in the mirror, looking at all of the features of his face. For a second he thought he saw John behind him and immediately turned around to be disappointed. He remembered John had walked out, yelling at him. Sherlock was starting to hallucinate him, maybe a nap would help. But a nap would slow him down, so he went back out the the hotel room and started occupying himself by going through the files again.

After 3 hours of going through files, Sherlock found 5 files of military personnel that had an Edgar Allan Poe book or something on Jack The Ripper. But none of them had both. Sherlock started to sweat and get dizzy, he hadn't had a drink in a few hours.. He got up and walked to the bathroom, struggling to open the door, he stumbled and fell onto the door. He slid down the door and onto the floor and passed out from dehydration.

* * *

><p><strong><em> John's POV<em>**

John woke up on the couch in the living room, he doesn't remember how he got here or when he fell asleep. He sat up and stretched his arms while yawning. He sat there for a bit, then got up and walked to the kitchen to make himself some tea. After the tea was made, he placed the cup on the table and went to grab his phone. Maybe Sherlock had called or texted him, maybe not. He found his phone and didn't have any messages. He sighed, putting his phone away. John wondered how Sherlock was holding up with the case, if any new information came in. Maybe he had found out who the murderer was, doubtful, he didn't have enough information to find out. That's what he told John anyway. He wondered how Sherlock was, if he was eating, if he had slept last night.. He worried about him all the time. Whether John wanted to admit it, Sherlock was always on his mind. There was never really a time John wasn't thinking of him.

As John sat down and slowly drank his tea, he thought of what he was going to say to Sherlock whenever he came back home. If he was actually going to move out and cancel the wedding. He did want to marry Sherlock, obviously, that's why he asked him in the first place. But now, now he didn't know. He felt like Sherlock, maybe this is how Sherlock always felt when it came to feelings. Confused, scared, and etc., Maybe Sherlock truly didn't understand how to handle everything and he would shove all of his feelings away. John was going to call Sherlock around lunch time and ask him how he was doing, he wasn't going to be able to go without talking to him. He missed him too much for that.


	8. Chapter 7: Panic Attacks

**AN: Here's the next chapter, been a bit busy but I got it done. I hope you're enjoying it. **

**The idea for this came and went, but I was finally able to put it into actual words. I think it's a really good chapter and I got my inspiration from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. (Have you ever read them all? I'm almost done and soon I shall start the memoirs!)**

**Enjoy!**

**(I did not go through and fix any grammatical errors, so if there are any, I apologize.)**

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><p><em><strong>Sherlock's POV<strong>_

Sherlock opened his eyes in a completely different room. He started to panic and sat up fast, getting dizzy and almost vomiting, he laid back. He closed his eyes and reopened them, looking around, he was in a hospital room. Lestrade was sitting on a chair across from Sherlock's bed, reading a Time magazine. He hadn't notice Sherlock sit up or that Sherlock had even woken up. Sherlock looked at the clock that was hanging over the door, it was 12:34pm. How long had he been passed out? He doesn't even remember passing out. He looked down at himself, examining what had probably happened. He had IVs running through his right arm, his pale skin looking defeated and dry. He had been dehydrated and passed out, so Lestrade took him to the hospital? He could have just slapped him awake and made him drink water. Much easier and cheaper solution.

"Oh Sherlock! You're awake, finally, you've been out for about a day and a half. Must have been pretty dehydrated, yeah?" Lestrade said, looking up from the magazine and closing it. He placed it on the table where it belonged and got up. "How are you feeling?"

"Better..? I suppose. You said a day, correct? Oh, what a shame. Anything new on the killer, Greg?" Sherlock asked, the case was constantly on his mind. Lestrade looked a little shocked that Sherlock had actually called him by his first name, and the correct first name.

"Uh no, nothing new. I called and let John know what had happened, he wants you to call him later."

"I'm not going to call him, he said I was not allowed to talk to him until I returned home."

"Sherlock, don't be upset about whatever you two argued over. He really cares about you, he was really worried when I told him what had happened. So grow up and call him." Lestrade placed his phone in Sherlock's hand and walked out of the room, closing the door, giving him privacy to talk to John. Sherlock looked down at the phone and slowly dialed John's number. In all honesty, Sherlock was scared to talk to John. He was scared to see how his attitude would be towards him, what his voice was going to sound like, what they would talk about, everything. The phone line started ringing and after the fourth ring, John finally answered.

"Hello? Greg?" John sounded impatient, Sherlock wanted to just hang up. He didn't reply for a few seconds, then he cleared his throat.

"N-no, John, it's Sherlock." There was a pause.

"Oh, Sherlock, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, I assume Lestrade had given you the information on what had been wrong?"

"Yeah, Greg told me you were dehydrated.. Have you been eating? Sleeping?" Obviously Sherlock wasn't going to sleep after John left. Was he being stupid?

"No, no I haven't been sleeping or eating."

"Well you need to, do you understand? It's not healthy."

"Neither is smoking but I still do that."

"I don't want to hear your attitude, Sherlock. Do you understand me?" Sherlock smiled and giggled to himself, he loved it when John went all army serious on him. "Why are you laughing?"

"Oh nothing. I'll eat, I suppose. Will you come visit me? I miss you." Sherlock regretted saying that, he wished he could take it all back. But he couldn't. What was said, was said. John was probably still mad at everything and would most likely say no to coming back. John didn't answer right away though, so he must have been thinking about the right thing to say.

"Moriarty will be visiting you while you're in the hospital, he needs your help and would like to explain his situation to you."

"That this murderer has killed his female workers and would like to murder him? Oh yes, I know." _Thanks for ignoring my question, John_. Sherlock thought to himself.

"How do you- never mind, pointless question to ask. Anyway, I've went back to work and I really don't want to take off."

"You don't need to lie to me, if you would have went back to work you would be there right now and by the sound of the noise in the back ground you are standing in the kitchen while Mrs. Hudson listens to everything I'm saying. Hello Mrs. Hudson, I can hear you breathing." Sherlock heard a smack in the background and a groan from Mrs. Hudson.

"Hello dear! I was just wondering if you were okay! I'll be going now sweetie." Mrs. Hudson yelled into the phone, Sherlock heard her walking away.

"I don't want to see you, Sherlock." So he _was_ still angry.

"But John.."

"But nothing. We are going to have a serious talk when this case is all over."

"I miss you." Before responding, John paused.

"I miss you too. Stay safe for me, okay?" Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes, laying back on the hospital bed.

"Only for you." Sherlock hung up and placed the phone on the table beside the bed. He ended up falling asleep for the next 8 hours.

* * *

><p><em><strong>John's POV<strong>_

John was in a cab on his way to see Sherlock. He didn't know if he wanted to go, but Greg had called and begged him to come visit. Greg also said that Sherlock was sleeping and Moriarty had been waiting for him to wake up. As far as John knew, Sherlock was still asleep and Moriarty was still in the hospital room. Every time John thought of Sherlock, his heart raced. He missed his detective so much. To argue with him like that was upsetting, but John was still angry with him, deep inside. He didn't want to act like it though, John just wanted to get to the hospital and lay in the bed with Sherlock. He wanted to hold him and make sure that he was going to be alright. But he couldn't do that. He wouldn't, the hospital workers probably wouldn't appreciate that very much. Greg had also called to let John know that they had five men in custody. Sherlock had been working on the case while in the hospital. Apparently, two of them knew John. So, that might of had something to do with the threat to Mrs. Hudson? The cab finally reached the hospital and John paid the cabbie, then got out. He walked through the sliding entrance doors of the hospital and went to the receptionist.

"How may I help you sir?" The receptionist asked after looking up from a medical file.

"Where is Sherlock Holmes' room?" The receptionist looked at John for a second or so before typing in her computer. She was looking up the room number that Sherlock had been staying in. Greg forgot to tell John what room Sherlock was in.

"He is on the second floor in room 210, take a right and it is the first door on the left. Are you John Watson?"

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask?"

"Oh I've heard all about you, the nurses say that Mr. Holmes talks about you a lot." She gave John a reassuring smile. "He'll probably be released in the next day or so."

"Oh, thank you." John turned away from the desk and headed for the stairs. He walked up to the second floor and followed the signs to room 210. He stopped at the door with his hand on the door handle. He peeked into the window and saw Moriarty sitting on a chair with his back towards the door. Sherlock was still sound asleep in bed, sort of curled up. John turned the door handle and entered the room, Moriarty immediately turned his head and look at John. John sat down in a chair on the other side of Sherlock and grabbed his hand lightly, holding it. Moriarty just watched John, he didn't say anything, he just watched him. Examining his every movement he made towards Sherlock.

John used his thumb to rub circles around Sherlock's hand, he didn't really notice he was doing it. He was looking at Sherlock, his pale face even worse, he'd lost so much weight while here. He was so thin and fragile looking, John felt like he could break him. John questioned himself, why did he ever think of leaving Sherlock here? This wouldn't have happened if he just went back into that hotel room and talked to him about it.

* * *

><p><em><strong> Sherlock's POV<strong> _

Sherlock opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Moriarty. Sherlock panicked and started hitting his nurse call button over and over. He didn't want Moriarty here, he didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to face him enemy while he was in this condition, he couldn't defend himself. There was nothing he could do to be safe.

"Sherlock! Sherlock calm down, it's okay. I'm here, it's John. He's not going to hurt you." The sound of John's voice stopped Sherlock from moving. It stopped him from panicking. John had gotten up and put his hand on Sherlock's face. Sherlock felt his head move to face John and John was telling him something. Sherlock wasn't listening, memories of Moriarty were rushing to his mind and he was in panic mode. He was shaking slightly and he started sweating. Why was he reacting like this? He tried to calm himself down but he couldn't, he just continued to panic.

"Sherlock, listen to me. Please calm down.. It will be okay. Moriarty won't hurt you. He needs your help, he needs to ask you a few things. Everything will be okay." That wasn't the case though, Sherlock had deducted everything about Moriarty as soon as he walked in. Sherlock saw the gun he had under his blazer, he saw the pocket knife slightly hidden in his front pocket. Sherlock was not going to be okay and John couldn't realize this. Moriarty had a sneer look on his face, a look of murder.

"Get him out of here, John! Get him out, get him out, get him out! He's not, no, no, no, make him leave please!" Sherlock started yelling and then he started sobbing. He was so distraught over Moriarty being in the room. John started to get really angry and went over to Moriarty, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the room. Sherlock started to calm down and the nurse finally showed up. She started checking Sherlock machines, his heart rate had gone up deathly and his body was trying to slow it down too fast. The nurse injected Sherlock with anesthesia and he felt his eyes get heavy. He tried to force himself awake but the drug ran it's course through his blood stream and he fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 8: Interrogations

**AN: Bam. The next chapter is up and there is quite a bit to it. I had a bit trouble with this.**

**Funny/horrible story time, I've had this history story due on the Spanish Armada, so when I completed it and went to email it to my teacher, I accidentally emailed him this chapter. And he read it to the whole class the next day. I kind of don't want to be in school anymore.**

**I hope you enjoy and always leave a review if you'd like.**

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><p><strong><em>John's POV<em>**

"Why the hell did he flip out like that?" John yelled at Moriarty, then realized where he was and lowered his voice. "What is the real reason of you being here?"

"What is it always, John? You really believed I needed Sherlock's help?" Moriarty smirked and headed towards the elevators. He hit the elevator button and turned his head back to John. "That murderer, you see, is on my side." He walked into the elevator and John stood there for a few minutes. He looked around, _had no one heard Moriarty? Where was everyone anyway?_ John thought. John sort of walked in a circle looking for workers, but decided to go back into Sherlock's hospital room. There was a nurse in his room, looking over his vitals.

"Erm, excuse me, nurse, what happened to him?" John asked her, quietly and calmly.

"His heart monitor was going crazy, didn't you notice? His heart rate sky rocketed at an impressive speed, I gave him anesthesia to settle him down. He'll wake back up in about 30 minutes to a hour." She replied, wrapping up her stuff and getting ready to leave.

"What do you think caused it?" John asked her before she left. She hesitated.

"Listen, everyone in the hospital knows everything about both of you. We all read your blogs. We all know that Jim was here to see Sherlock. I think after everything Jim has done to Sherlock, he would have panicked like that. It's obvious, John. Just because people say they're going to be nice and not harm you, doesn't mean it's true. Shouldn't you of all people know this?" She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

John pulled a chair up beside Sherlock's bed and held his hand. He sighed to himself. He didn't see what Sherlock saw, he just saw Moriarty, he didn't make a deduction of any kind. Then John started to think about what Moriarty had said to him before he left. The murderer was working for him. Well, why hadn't he just killed Sherlock already? Why hadn't he killed John? What was he waiting for? To kill innocent people that Sherlock might care about? What for?

Then it hit him. Sherlock might not be able to understand his feelings, so when they start to show up, he goes crazy. Moriarty is going to kill every person that Sherlock cares about to make him go insane. Just like before. _Moriarty really can't think of any other better ideas, can he?_ John thought to himself. They would easily get through this one. Just like before. John just has to avoid dying. _That's a wonderful thought, avoid dying. I'll try my best._ John thought.

Sherlock finally woke up after 45 minutes or so, asking John where Moriarty had gone, what had happened to him, and things like that. John answered his questions and tried to keep Sherlock calm and happy. He was rubbing his hand lightly and then asked him about how he was feeling.

"I feel.. I'm okay. How did you not notice?"

"Not notice what?"

"Moriarty had a gun and pocket knife with him." John just stared at Sherlock in disbelief. "No, you didn't see it then? It was obvious.."

"Why did you panic?"

"I wanted him out of here."

"So you faked it?"

"No. I was scared."

"Scared of what, exactly?"

"Scared that he was going to kill you."

"He's failed at that many times, you know. You should stop worrying about that." Sherlock glared at John.

"I'm leaving the hospital today and as soon as I do, we are going to Scotland Yard and we are interrogating whoever the hell Lestrade has in there and we are going to find out who did this. We will end it right there."

Sherlock was getting angry, so John decided not to tell him what Moriarty had said. He just agreed with Sherlock and went to find a nurse or doctor to tell them that Sherlock would like to be released sometime today.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sherlock's POV<strong>_

As Sherlock was getting up and getting out of the hospital bed, he almost slipped. He was still weak, but he refused help from the nurse. John entered the room with Sherlock's release papers and a cup of water. John walked over to him and handed it to him, Sherlock took the papers and shooed away the cup. He wasn't thirsty, he wanted to get right down to business at Scotland Yard. John left out a frustrated sigh and left the cup of water on the bedside table. Walking out of the room with him, Sherlock went to the receptionist's desk and filled out the papers, handing them to the receptionist. She smiled at him and wished him a nice day. Sherlock stumbled, sort of, out of the hospital and called for a taxi. John tried helping him in, but Sherlock refused and got inside the taxi.

"What is wrong with you?" John asked after a bit of silence in the taxi.

"I'm frustrated with you."

"Frustrated? With me? What did I do?" John asked, looking surprised.

"I don't know what you don't understand, but whether Moriarty says he is on our side, he never is. Haven't you learned? I'm also sick of your sarcastic attitude."

"What's gotten into you?"

"Well, you seem to only show up when I'm hurt."

"Sherlock are you alright? You know that isn't true."

"Really? Is it not, John?" Sherlock looked gravely at him. "I call you and ask you to come because I'm in the hospital, at first you ignore me, then you bring Moriarty into the room to speak with me when he is armed? He was going to kill me right there in front of you. You would have let it happen."

"Dammit Sherlock, I didn't know that the bastard was armed, alright? I just assumed he really needed your help."

"As to whom do you think he would ever need my help, John?"

"I really don't want to argue with you, Sherlock."

"We are not arguing, John. We are talking."

"Talking? What the?" He sighed. "We can talk about this when we get home."

"That may be a while." Sherlock positioned himself to where he was facing out the window, but in the reflection, he noticed that John looked upset over their little talk. He looked down at his hand and moved it towards John's. He lightly placed it on top of John's hand and squeezed it, in an apologetic way. Sherlock looked back at the window and saw John smiling in the reflection.

* * *

><p><strong><em> John's POV<em> **

After a hour taxi ride, they reached Scotland Yard. Sherlock got out, slowly, paying the taxi driver and walking inside to Lestrade's office. Hand-in-hand with John, they entered the office and there sat Lestrade at his desk, busily typing away at his computer keyboard. John helped Sherlock sit down, then sat in the seat beside him. Lestrade finished whatever he had been typing and looked up at them, he slightly pushed back from his desk and propped his feet up.

"Welcome back from the hospital, Sherlock, you look better."

"Yes, I'm here to interrogate the five suspects."

"I assumed, let's go then, shall we?" Lestrade got up and walked out of the office, holding the door open for them. They walked quite a bit before they entered the hallway that only held doors that led to interrogation rooms. "Pick a room, each one is held in a different room. Good luck."

Sherlock walked up to the first door and entered, closing and locking the door behind him. John followed Lestrade to the room behind the glass. He watched Sherlock, who stood talking to the suspect.

"Your name?"

"Michael D'Liva."

"Interesting. Military past?" Sherlock sat down, slowly, in the chair across from Michael, staring at him intently.

"Ex army ranger for the American Army. You're not a cop, are you?" Sherlock laughed and shook his head.

"No, no I'm not. I'm much greater, though."

"Right, I bet you are."

"I can tell you that you served 26 years in the army, you were shot four times in the same leg, your left calf, and also once in your right arm. I can tell you that you suffer PTSD due to all those years and that you were the sniper in your little Army Ranger group. You've killed many men and you served mostly in Iraq, refusing to go to Afghanistan. You also have a wife at home who is enraged at you being convicted of murder and is currently living with her parents, taking your two children with you." Sherlock glared at the man and sat there, proud of himself. "Am I wrong?"

Michael hesitated before answering. "How did yo-"

"Don't doubt me. Now, did you murder these women?"

"No."

"Did you tear their bodies to pieces? Did you rape them and watch them bleed to death as you single hand-idly ripped and cut their limbs?" Sherlock asked, rage and seriousness highly present in his tone.

"No, no I didn't!"

"Are you lying to me?"

"No I'm not!" Michael started to get angry and he gripped the table. He started sobbing and covered his face. "I'd.. I'd never harm a woman. I've only ever shot a man for beating a woman.. I.. I didn't murder these women I swear to you!" Sherlock got up and headed to the door, he unlocked it and looked back at Michael.

"I know you didn't." Sherlock walked out of the room. He then entered where John and Lestrade were waiting for him.

"That was intense." That was Lestrade's only response.

"Where to now?" John asked.

"The next room, obviously, my love." That's what they did, Sherlock would enter an interrogation room, make the soldier sit there sobbing, and leave. Not a single one came up suspicious until Sherlock got to the last one. This one gave an unexpected response.

"Your name, sir?"

"Elijah Rickett."

"Rank?"

"Sergent."

"Do you know, or have heard of any of these women?" Sherlock placed the pictures and names of the women in front of him. Elijah looked at them and pointed out that he knew two of them, Molly and another girl named Sarah. "Your relation to them?"

"Molly was a distant cousin, she'd come to a few family picnics. She never talked. Sarah was an old friend of mine, we broke off when she went to college."

"Have you seen them before they died?" Elijah shook his head and leaned back in the chair.

"Why am I here?"

"You've come up suspicious on our radar."

"Why?"

"Well, you've assaulted this woman Sarah here, a few years ago. Did you not?"

"How did you know? The police never found out!"

"Because I just know." Sherlock smirked and closed the files. "Now, tell me again, had you seen either of them days before they died?"

"Yes, I went... I went to see Sarah.."

"How did that go?"

"I asked for help because I was low on money and she was the only one who would offer to give me so little. When I went to pick it up, I was outside her door and I heard her screaming. So I broke her door open and ran inside. Someone must have been there because they ran off and she was pointing at the window they must have jumped out but when I looked out, no one was there. It was a three story drop."

"Anything else?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I told her I would come back the next day, so I did, and she started getting angry with me so I grabbed her wrist tightly until she calmed down. I left without the money." Sherlock sat there for a few moments, not saying anything. Just staring at Elijah. He was going to say something, but closed his mouth. He finally asked Elijah one question.

"Did you murder Sarah Wagner?" Elijah sat there in disbelief at what Sherlock had asked him. He was silent, he didn't respond. "Answer me, did you murder Sarah?" Elijah was still silent. Sherlock started to get frustrated, he grabbed the files and got up, walking out of the door.

John was waiting for him to come back to the room he was in with Lestrade but he never did. Lestrade looked at John confused and went back to his office with John. That's where Sherlock was.

"So?"

"He did it. He did all of the murders. Sarah was the first murder, correct? Well, all of these women knew each other. So, to keep them quiet, he murdered them. He would have continued to as well. This has nothing to do with Moriarty and his people. This man did it."

"Are you positive?" John asked.

"You're wrong, Sherlock." Lestrade butted in.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock asked him, stopping himself from putting the files away.

"Molly didn't know any of these women that came into the morgue. She never talked about them and when they came in, she was her usual self. She wasn't like she would be if she knew the person." Sherlock started to get angry and grabbed his coat.

"I need a cigarette."

"You don't have any." John said, following him.

"Then I'll go get some." Sherlock stopped John from following him by closing the door in his face. John watched him walk out of the building and looked back at Lestrade.

"Damn, I think you two need couple's counseling."


	10. Chapter 9: I Think It's Over

**AN: I would like to apologize on this chapter being so small. I have been very stressed out with school. I have a 7 page paper due tomorrow (Monday, April 7th) and I have maybe two paragraphs. I'm starting to lose ideas for this book as well, and I feel like I'll be disappointing myself when I say this but I will most likely end this book within the next two or three chapters if writing just one chapter is getting really complicated for me. I also started another story that has nothing to do with this one, which might seem weird but I have plenty of ideas for that one. If you haven't read it yet it's called "Two Years Without Him" and I will be posting on that once a week (or once every two weeks, it's not the most of my worries. This story is more important than that one). I actually wrote that story for a friend, I starting telling her bits of an idea for a fanfiction and she started to get upset (as in crying) and told me to write that as a fanfiction. **

**Over all of this, I really want your guys' help with this. I'm losing ideas and my brain is like mush when I sit down to type up a chapter for this. So, I really need your help. Really badly. Throw an idea at me, any idea. I don't care if you think it's stupid, just give me a review and tell me the idea. It really does help me and it lets me know if you are still enjoying this or not. **

**So thank you, if you're still reading this far into the trilogy. :)**

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><p><strong><em>John's POV<em>**

John walked out of Lestrade's office and went outside to find Sherlock. He had to walk down two or three blocks to find Sherlock sitting on a bench. He had his legs crossed and his head leaning back, his left arm was under his right arm, while he held a cigarette to his lips with his right hand. John sighed to himself when he saw Sherlock take a puff of the cigarette and blow the smoke out of his mouth slowly. John walked over to him and sat down beside him. He moved just a bit closer and felt Sherlock shift his body. He uncrossed his legs and moved closer to John, allowing John to lean on him.

"I'm sorry, for earlier. I just want to solve this damn case." Sherlock said after some silence. He let took a puff of the cigarette and then blew the smoke out.

"I know you do."

"It's just so complicated. I get led to one thing and the deductions make sense but then Lestrade decides to throw other clues at me that, for some reason, he kept from me."

"Maybe you just can't solve this one Sherlock."

"Don't you dare tell me that. I will solve this. I will find out who committed these murders."

"Give up, Sherlock. You've lost."

"No, I haven't, John!" Sherlock got up and John had to catch himself from falling off the bench. "I just, I need this murderer to do what he does, I need another dead body. I need more clues. I need this. If I just, if there is just one more murder I might have it."

"We can't have people dying, Sherlock!"

"Really? Why not? Because these people mean something to you? Is that why? Because when these strangers die, it hurts you? How? People die every day. Go cry by their gravestones, tell me if it brings them back, will you?"

There was that anger again. Sherlock had said this too John many times, that he didn't care if people he didn't know died. Innocent people did not need to die for him to solve a most likely simple murder, well, simple in Sherlock's eyes. More women did not need to die for Sherlock to find the murderer, he just wasn't thinking clear enough, was he? He is capable of finding this man, is he not? So how and why hasn't he solved this murder case yet?

"Sherlock, you're crossing the line again." John said, frustratingly. "Just stop. Please."

"Why? I would love to talk about earlier, how you're only there when I'm hurt, correct?"

"When you're hurt? Excuse me?! Do you not remember every time you left me? Fake killing yourself and leaving me here to believe that it was true, Sherlock?! Do you? Every time I thought it was true, every time I believed it and you are accusing me of only being there when you were hurt? Do you know what you put me through?!" John started screaming, he couldn't hold himself back anymore. He started to get really angry at Sherlock. He didn't think he could handle their arguing anymore after this. "Do you know all the grieving I have done for you and how I have almost had gone mentally insane from losing you because you just had to fake your death to save London but you, for a god awful reason, could not tell me?! Hm?! How am I the one to be accused of something? If at all, you are the one who is only around when I, myself, am about to kill myself because YOU LEFT ME!" John stood up and forcibly pushed passed Sherlock, almost trying to knock him over, and decided to walk home. Leaving Sherlock behind and hoping he won't have to see him for a few hours.

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><p><strong><em> Sherlock's POV <em>**

Sherlock fixed his coat and scarf, threw out his cigarette, and walked back inside to Lestrade's office. Lestrade looked like he had fallen asleep at his desk, but he must have heard Sherlock walk inside.

"Back already? Are you alright?" Lestrade opened his eyes and seemed a bit surprised to see Sherlock standing there. "Where's John?"

"He went home."

"Why?"

"Because. I think I would like to end our engagement."

"Again? Why?"

"I can't deal with the arguing and all the frustration, this work is important to me and John doesn't seem to care about that anymore."

"Well.. Then I guess.. End it."

"I will."


	11. Chapter 10: The Woman

**AN: I don't like school and all of the work it gives me because I never get anything done with this story then I feel bad. :( Anyway, *attacks xXSchmayXx and basswolf1 into a tight hug* Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU! I took your ideas and warped them into this chapter so just, just TAKE IT AND LOVE IT!**

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><p><em><strong> Sherlock's POV <strong>_

Sherlock finally returned home after taking a long and slow walk from Scotland Yard. He greeted Mrs. Hudson with half a smile and walked up the stairs to his apartment. Once he entered, John was laying on the couch with his back facing Sherlock.

"John? Are you okay?" Sherlock hesitated to walk towards John and changed his mind, he stayed in place, closing the door silently.

"Oh I'm just fabulous, Sherlock. What do you think?" John rolled over on the couch to face Sherlock. "Did you walk the whole way home?"

Sherlock nodded. "Didn't you?"

John chuckled. "I got lazy." He sat up and Sherlock plopped beside him, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back slightly, closing his eyes.

"I think I've figured out who's done the murders."

After a bit of silence, Sherlock opened his eyes and peered over at John, who wasn't looking at Sherlock. Irritation was written all over his face, John was like an open book sometimes. So easy to read.

"I'm sorry, John."

"Excuse me?"

"I said I was sorry. I really and truly am sorry. I know I put you through a lot of pain and hurt and misery. I want you to know that I did it for you, though. Moriarty would have killed you, it was the only way I knew to save you. I couldn't have lived with myself if I knew that I was the cause of your death. I wouldn't have been able to sleep at night knowing that you'd never be by my side or that you'd never be able to sit at your computer with a cup of tea, typing away at your blog." John didn't respond again for some time, he never turned his head to look at Sherlock either.

"How do you think I felt?" John's voice cracking, Sherlock saw the tears running down his face. "I watched you jump off that building and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. My best.." He choked on his words trying to hold back a sob. "My best friend killed himself in front of me. At least.. At least I thought you did."

"John I'm so sorry." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's body and held him close. Rubbing his back and trying to hold back his own tears. John started to sob into Sherlock's shoulder. "I love you, John, I promise I do." John looked up and smiled at Sherlock.

Through some hiccups he finally replied with, "I love you too."

Sherlock tilted his head down slightly and kissed John, pulling him closer to him. John pulled back slightly and kissed Sherlock's nose. Sherlock pouted, wanting more, but John positioned himself out of Sherlock's grip and got up. He went over to his laptop and turned it on. After logging on, he looked up at Sherlock. "So, who do you think did it?"

"I have a few leads on two people. Two very, very different people."

"Like?" John leaned his head on his left hand while browsing on his laptop with the right.

"Do you remember Elijah Rickett?"

"Yeah, that guy you interviewed or interrogated? Who else?"

"The woman."

"Excuse me, what? Irene Adler? You think she is behind all of this? Are you crazy, Sherlock? She has been under the radar for years now, why would she ever pop up now?"

"There were just a few leads that led to her, Lestrade said he was looking into it but I doubt that. Can you pull the records up on your laptop?"

"Pull up the records? Sherlock that's illegal."

"Mmmm no it's not." Sherlock pulled a memory stick out of his pocket and tossed it to John, who caught it gracefully. "I steal from Lestrade when he frustrates me. He never notices it. It's wonderful."

"Steal from him? Sherlock this is police confidentiality, you cannot have this."

"And the police are not supposed to let consulting detectives into their crime scenes but they do anyway." Sherlock winked at John and got up from the couch. "Could you be a dear, my Watson, and load those onto your laptop? It's not traceable, I promise."

John let out a frustrated sigh and did as Sherlock had asked, loading the documents from the memory stick onto his laptop. Sherlock had gotten up and walked over to John, leaning over him with his hands placed beside John's on the table. It took some time for the files to download onto John's laptop, but everything was finally in one file. John clicked on the files, opening up many documents of the suspects and the victims. Sherlock moved John's hands off the mousepad and took over, clicking on the suspect files and clicked on Irene Adler's file.

"She was in the area of every single murder, close by, her text message records prove it so. She has even admitted to being near the murders as they took place but denies killing the people themselves. Which leads me to believe she had Moriarty do them. Because as you and I know, she had an offer with him how long ago? They've been working together ever since, have they not?"

"Well we don't know that."

"Yes we do." Sherlock pulled up her text message files and revealed that she had constantly been texting Moriarty, as well as her other clients, but mostly Moriarty. "See? So they're working together. I need to call Lestrade and have him get her into Scotland Yard. I need to talk to her."

John shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Sherlock knew he wasn't comfortable with that idea, at all. But Sherlock ignored it and grabbed his phone, dialing Lestrade's number. He grabbed his coat and scarf in the process, throwing them on.

"Are you coming?" Sherlock asked, turning to face John before he left. John shook his head and continued scrolling through the files. Sherlock walked outside and called for a taxi, Lestrade finally answered when the taxi arrived. "Yes, Lestrade, can you have Irene Adler come in for questioning?"

"She's already here, Sherlock."

"I'll be there soon." Sherlock hung up and sat back in the taxi, looking out the window as a light rain had started. He watched the rain drops fall silently down the window, wishing that John had come along with him. Once he finally got to Scotland Yard, he paid the cabbie and almost ran inside. He found Lestrade waiting inside, Lestrade walked up to him and handed him papers.

"She's going to tell you what she told us, you know that. Whether you're in that room or not. She didn't do these murders, whether she was near them or if she was 100 yards away, it was not her."

"I'll be the judge of that." Sherlock said as he entered the interrogation room. The woman was seated in a plain chair at a steel table, tapping her fingers on the table lightly. She looked up at Sherlock and stopped, a flirtatious smirk appeared on her face. "Oh Mr. Holmes, it's been a long time."

"Yes, it has." Sherlock sat down across from her. "I've come to talk to you."

"Asking me plenty of questions is not talking, sweetheart."

"Hmph." Sherlock opened up the files of the victims and showed them to her. "Do you-" she cut him off.

"Know any of these women? Oh yes, yes I do. They were clients of mine. Wonderful women they were, beautiful bodies, did you notice? Of course not." She smirked at him.

"Well, from the mangled mess they were left in, it was a bit difficult to look at their body as a whole."

"Ohh that's correct, there was almost nothing left of them. What a shame."

"Did you murder them?"

She giggled. "No, I didn't murder them. Oh Sherlock, he was right. You want everything to be so clever don't you?" She smiled.

"He?"

"Yes, he. Jim, Jim Moriarty is a great guy, oh yes he is. In many ways." She winked at Sherlock. "May I leave now? I have an appointment with a client in a hour and I must prep myself."

Sherlock sat there awkwardly, trying to stare at her intently. He didn't know what to do or what to think. Did she just admit to Sherlock's deductions?

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><p><strong><em>John's POV <em>**

John decided after some time to leave the apartment and head to Scotland Yard. As he was walking to the entrance, he saw Lestrade outside, smoking. "Hey, Greg! I thought you quit?"

"Nah, too much work. Sherlock's inside talking to Irene."

"You aren't watching?"

"No, why would I need to watch? We know what happened."

"Hold on, what?"

"This is all a joke, John. All of it. These women had been dead for months now. It's all just an act for Sherlock to find something to do. It was Moriarty's idea and Irene joined in immediately."

"Wait, you've got to be joking me right now? This isn't.. None of it is real? Why the hell would you do that Greg?! I could be planning a wedding, I could be getting ready to get married!"

"Well, Moriarty wanted you two to break up. He didn't like the little love story between you two and found it stupid. So, when he brought the idea up, Irene was all for it to make it look real and to really confuse Sherlock."

"How the hell could you do this to Sherlock? Do you know how much this is going to hurt him?"

"Hurt him? He's a psycho or sociopath, whatever. He doesn't care about things like this, you of all people know that."

"Doesn't care?" John huffed and turned in a half circle then turned back to Lestrade, pointing his finger at him waist high. "You're sick, you know that?" John pointed to himself. "I know Sherlock. I know how he really feels about a lot of things and deep inside that sociopathic self that he is, he has a heart. Oh I'm telling him."

"You can't, John. She's going to tell him."

"Not before I do, dammit." John angrily walked fast inside, trying to find what interrogation room Sherlock was in.


	12. Chapter 11: Nighty-Night, Dr Watson

**AN: Sorry it took me so long to type up this chapter, I've had writer's block and school is always busy. Well I've been on break and it has taken me a few days to write this. I hope you enjoy it, I tried my best.**

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><p><strong><em>Sherlock's POV<em>**

There was a knock at the door, Irene jumped at the sound. Sherlock heard John's voice echo into the room. "Let me in, Sherlock! I need to talk to you!" Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh.

"Don't let him in, Mr. Holmes. It'll be one big mistake." Irene piped in to stop Sherlock. "He doesn't need to talk to you right this instant, you can finish talking to me."

"Weren't you to be on your way?" Sherlock shot her a questioning look, deducing how she was lying. What did John want anyway?

She shrugged. "I've got time." There was another bang on the door and Sherlock put his hands on the table and lifted himself up. Irene grabbed his left arm to stop him from moving towards the door. "Ah-ah-ah, just wait a little bit longer and let me explain." Sherlock pulled his arm out of her grip. He walked to the door and unlocked it, opening it slightly.

"John, I'm a bit busy, what do yo-" John interrupted him by forcing the door open with his shoulder, almost knocking Sherlock down, and angrily pointed at Irene; he looked at Sherlock.

"This, this woman is lying to you. Don't you dare listen to her, Sherlock. It's all one big joke. None of this is real. They've been doing this because Moriarty wants us to be over and wants me to be out of your life. Lestrade is in on it too!" John stood there, waiting for a response from Sherlock who seemed to go blank.

Sherlock was processing everything John had just told him, fake? A lie? What is he talking about? This is real, correct? The woman had said something about Moriarty to me but he, no. This can't be.. Sherlock thought to himself, he looked at Irene and back to John. "Are you telling me the truth?"

John turned to a slight angle, letting out a frustrated sigh and hanging his arms. "Yes I'm telling you the truth Sherlock!"

"So it's all.."

"Yes! It's all fake! Greg told me!" In that instant, Irene had gotten up and stabbed John in the neck with some form of needle. John's body gave out and he fell forward. Sherlock caught him and looked up at Irene.

"What have you done?!" Then Sherlock felt the same sensation in his neck, he's been injected with this before. By her. He tried holding onto consciousness, he felt his body go numb. He collapsed on the floor beside John, groaning.

"Shh.. My darlings. You'll be wonderful in the morning." That's the last thing Sherlock heard of The woman until he went unconscious.

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><p>"Sherlock? You alright?" Molly. Sherlock could hear Molly's voice. He groaned and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. "Sherlock? Can you hear me?" Sherlock attempted to nod, he didn't know if he did or not, his body was still numb. He heard Molly giggle and heard her walk over to him. "You'll be fine, we have a lot of explaining to do, don't we Greg?"<p>

"Sorry it had to end up like this, Sherlock. If only John wasn't a little snitch, this may have ended on a much better note."

What are they talking about? Explaining what? What did they do again? Oh.. That's right..

Sherlock had to open his mouth a few times to make sure he could still move it, after being able to feel his tongue again he asked, "Where's... Where is John? Is he alright?"

"John is fine, for now. Hopefully, anyway."

Hopefully? Sherlock started to panic. He heard someone else walk into the room. A man.

"Is my boy awake yet?" Moriarty.

"Not yet, Jim."

"Mmm, Molly, glad you could join us."

"Mhm.. You're welcome."

Sherlock looked up and saw Moriarty standing approximately three feet away from him. "Oh my favorite is awake, how are you feeling, Sherlock?"

Sherlock groaned and forced himself to sit up, feeling dizzy he had to catch himself from falling off the table he was laying on. "I'm fine."

"Mm, that's nice. Now Sherlock, I heard that your little Johnny-boy here snitched and told you our little secret?" Sherlock nodded slowly. "Well, that's not good now is it? Because we were going to keep this going until you drove yourself insane." Moriarty narrowed his eyes. "We were going to drive you until you became so broken, you were unfixable. John is going to have to take a punishment, now, for being a tattle tale. We have a few options, and guess what? You get to decide! Isn't that fun now, Sherlock?" Moriarty's creepy smile beamed at Sherlock.

"What punishments? Where is he?" Sherlock asked, frantically looking around and making himself dizzy.

"In another room, you'll see him, don't worry. I'll go see if he has.. awoken, yet." Moriarty turned on his heels and walked out of the room through double doors. Sherlock turned his head to look at Lestrade, who gave him an apologetic look.

"What's going to happen to John?" Sherlock asked in a scared and worried tone, pulling himself off the table to stand, using the table as a support. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing yet, Sherlock. John is fine, as far as we know. Somethings just.. Moriarty said that something is wrong with him."

"So I did my own research.." Molly chimed in, "I found out that he's allergic to whatever Irene had injected him with and we don't know if he'll be able to survive. He's in a coma, because of it. We're trying to save him Sherlock.. We really are.."

Sherlock stood there in disbelief, staring at both of them. He cleared his throat and stood straighter. "I need to go for a walk."

"Sherlock you can't.."

"I can and I will." He pushed passed the two, holding onto all of his strength, he walked out of the hospital. He just needed to clear his mind, go to his mind palace. John will be okay, he's always okay. Nothing bad ever happens to him where he doesn't survive. He'll get through this, he invaded Afghanistan, he'll be fine.

The more Sherlock kept telling himself how save John would be, the more unsure he became on John's life.


	13. Chapter 12: This Is How It Ends

**AN: I'd like to apologize for never posting for two months. Here is the last chapter of the fanfic, I will not continue it. I'm sorry, but I would like to stick with the fanfic that I have now, "Two Years Without Him". I have more ideas for that than I do with this story and this story needed to end. I'm sorry. Enjoy.**

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><p>Sherlock just kept walking and walking. He didn't know where to go. He didn't know what to do to save John's life. If his body was allergic to this injection, then it has been moving through his blood at a fast rate which would have caused the coma. He must have been pretty allergic to it, but how could Sherlock not have known that before? John never brought up anything with him being allergic to something, so he must not have known himself. He's a doctor though. How could he not know about something so important like that? Sherlock's phone vibrating took him away from his thoughts, pulling his phone out frustratingly, it was Mycroft.<p>

_Are you alright?_

_M_

_Yes_

_SH_

_How is John?_

_M_

_Coma_

_SH_

The text messages stopped. normally Mycroft would ask if Sherlock wanted to go to dinner or lunch or something, but Mycroft just didn't answer. Sherlock kept walking, trying to walk off his emotions and feelings that he didn't understand why he had. What exactly was going to happen to John and why did it have to happen so suddenly?

**Days Later**

Sherlock was sitting in his usual chair at Baker street when he got the call. Molly was calling him and Sherlock was hesitant to answer. He slightly slid his finger on the green bar to answer.

"Hello?" He said, in a deep worried tone.

"Sherlock? I... I have to tell you something."

Sherlock hesitated. "What?"

"It's.. It's John. He's dead. He's really dead.."

Sherlock put his phone down, placing it on the table, never hanging up, and sat there for the rest of the day.

**The Day After**

Molly had arrived, puffy red eyes, snot dripping from her nose slightly. Sherlock never moved. He just stared at the chair opposite from him. He didn't budge when Molly arrived, either. He didn't look at her, he didn't answer her when she called his name, he didn't move. He blocked her out and refused to get up. John was dead. Moriarty won. And this was how it ended.


End file.
